


We Could Really Use Some Therapy

by PerpetualDaydream



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 11:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30105150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerpetualDaydream/pseuds/PerpetualDaydream
Summary: Inspired by the following post from asgardiansofthegalaxyvol3 on tumblr:"Sam is a professional and knows well enough that both he and Bucky need to see someone to work through their issues and ptsd. Bucky is from the 30s and isnt ‘crazy’ and doesn’t need to see ‘a crazy doctor’ because he’s ‘fine’Sam compromises and let’s Bucky sit in on his therapy session, that’s what we see in the trailer.Spoiler alert Bucky gets the help he needs and apologizes for being so negative."
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	We Could Really Use Some Therapy

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [post from tumblr](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/778170) by asgardiansofthegalaxyvol3. 



> I've been to various types of therapy before, but never for PTSD. I've done CBT but never the CPT branch of it, as PTD isn't one of the mental health issues I have personally experienced. If you have, and believe something in this story should change, please let me know!

“You missed the turn.”

Newfound “co-workers” Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes were driving to a meeting about their upcoming mission. The former was behind the wheel, with the latter riding shotgun.

“No I didn’t.”

“The meeting is at the warehouse on the other side of town.”

“We have an errand to do.”

Sam pulled into the parking lot of a place that looked like your typical office building with a brown exterior and lime green side outside and the two got out of the car.

“Coleman Psychiatry?” Bucky read, confused. “Is the meeting happening over here now?”

“No, but our appointments are.”

“Appointments? But this is a psychiatry center.”

“Yeah, really lucked out when I called and managed to book back-to-back timeslots.”

“For who?”

“For us.”

Bucky looked straight-up offended. “Why?”

“I know we’ve been dealing with a lot lately...well, more than lately. Figured we could use some therapy.”

“Therapy? I’m not crazy, Sam. And you may be a lot of things, but I don’t think you are either.”

“Whoa, whoa, there. I never said you were crazy. I just thought you - we - could use a bit of help with-” Sam abruptly stopped talking when he saw Bucky walking back toward the car. “Where are you going?”

“Look, I know my mind was messed with for the better part of the century, but I’m not checking into the loony bin. I know the messed up stuff that goes on in there, and my brain has been played around with too much. I’m not letting them try to lobotomize me.”

Sam couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh a little, which only upset Bucky more. “I take it you aren’t too familiar with modern-day therapy?”

Bucky cocked his eyebrow.

“No one is gonna be getting lobotomized. They’re just gonna sit and talk with you for an hour.”

“About?”

Sam shrugged. “Life, struggles, fighting, whatever you need help dealing with.”

Bucky still looked wary. “That sounds like a trap.”

Sam didn’t even try to stifle his laughter this time. Of course, Bucky wasn’t amused. “Look, I’m fine, okay? If I managed to put up with you for this long, I think I can handle my life without talking to a doctor for crazy people.”

The two stared at each other in silence for a minute, before Sam came up with a compromise.

“Look, you don’t have to go to your appointment if you don’t want to. But why don’t you sit in on mine? That way I’ll have someone to protect me if they try to lobotomize me.” Sam laughed at his own joke.

Bucky just rolled his eyes and went to open the car door before realizing he didn’t have the keys. He looked over at Sam, who held them up with a smirk on his face.

Bucky sighed in defeat. “Alright, fine.”

-

“Is someone going to be sitting in on our meeting today, Mr. Wilson?”

“Uh, yeah.” Sam looked back at Bucky. “If that’s alright, of course. He wanted to test the waters before his own appointment in an hour.”

“I thought I was coming to this meeting  _ instead _ of my appointment in an hour,” Bucky grumbled.

“Well, either way,” said the doctor, as she turned back to Sam. “It’s nice of you to let your friend sit in on our meeting.”

Sam and Bucky looked at each other awkwardly. They had slowly begun to operate as a more cohesive team compared to how they started their partnership, but they still weren’t to the point of referring to it as a “friendship”. After an awkward pause, the therapist gestured for the two to sit down. Sam pulled a chair up relatively close to her desk, while Bucky took a seat on the couch situated at the other side of the room.

“So, based on what you said on the phone about your struggles with post-traumatic stress disorder, I’m thinking you’d be a good candidate for cognitive processing therapy. It’s a common treatment for the condition that will help you become aware of your feelings and learn to challenge and change your troubling thoughts, particularly if you end up in a situation which triggers them that might not be so easy to get out of. I imagine you come across those frequently in your, um, line of work.”

Sam nodded, while Bucky looked around, trying to find something else to focus his mind on. He didn’t even like thinking about having “troubling thoughts” much less directly confronting them.

“I know a little bit about your time in the Air Force and as a member of the Avengers from your intake file, but I want to find out a little bit more about where the PTSD stemmed from and go from there with the treatment.”

Bucky spotted a stack of plain black notebooks and a pile of ballpoint pens on the sidetable next to the couch he was sitting on. He looked over at Sam and the therapist to ensure they couldn’t see him, and once he was sure they were engrossed in their conversation, he grabbed the book on top of the pile. Opening it, he saw it was empty.

“One focus of CPT is learning to identify automatic thoughts that are causing the symptoms of PTSD to manifest.”

Bucky grabbed one of the pens next to the stack of notebooks and began to doodle. He was never as good an artist as Steve, but he had gone to a few classes with him and could at least appreciate the skill. Today, though, he wasn’t drawing anything in particular. Just silly things like spirals and stars and random shapes made up of various triangles.

“Now, CPT involves a lot of writing. So I guess you could say I’m going to be giving you homework after our session today.”

Bucky’s doodles took a much more dramatic turn. No more cute little stars and soft swirls; those had been replaced by sharp, jagged lines moving up and down so that they looked almost like cartoon grass, or even a monitor for heartbeat or brain wave activity. The same kind that had been used on him back when he was…

“We generally start off by giving the patient a notebook and having them write what’s called an impact statement. This is meant to detail your current understanding of the events that have contributed to your PTSD and the impact they have had on your thoughts and beliefs.

By this point Bucky had begun to write in his own notebook - purely by coincidence, of course. Just a bunch of words that he needed to get out in hopes of being relieved of the churning feeling of anxiety and dread inside him. Words that turned into sentences, which turned into stories; memories. Traumatic ones. Page after page was filled with them. The clock ticked on, and the pen kept moving across the paper.

***

“Mr. Barnes?”

A startled Bucky looked up from the notebook he’d been writing in - which was now over halfway full - only to see both Sam and the therapist standing in front of him.

“I-it’s two o’clock already?” he stammered.

“Three, actually,” the therapist turned to give a knowing smile to Sam, who returned it with a smirk which he then directed at Bucky. “You seemed so immersed in it all that we decided to turn your appointments into a double-length group session.”

“Yeah, sorry you didn’t get to talk,” Sam chimed in. “But I have a feeling that notebook says more than we could ever get to come out of your mouth.” He reached to grab the book, which was now lying on the couch, but the doctor gently pushed his hand back and Bucky picked it up before he could take it.

“Now, please,” said the therapist. “You don’t need to do that.” She then reached out and snatched the book from Bucky’s hands herself. “That’s my job.”

Sam held Bucky back as the doctor leafed through the notebook. “This is a really great start,” she remarked. “I think if you come back for a few more CPT sessions we could make even more progress. Maybe one-on-one this time.” She eyed Sam. “But it’s up to you, of course.”

The three stood in silence for a moment. Finally, Bucky began to nod a little. “Yeah.” His voice was quiet, and he spoke slowly. “I think that would be good.”

***

The two heroes left the office after booking their next appointments. Before they got back into the car, Bucky stopped Sam.

“Hey, I just wanna say-”

“Look, no need to thank me, alright? Finding you some 21st century therapy and a place to unload all that emo boy angst was me doing myself a favor.”

Sam laughed as Bucky rolled his eyes, but both smiled as they got back in the car. Bucky may never become a full-fledged 21st century man, but at least he was finally able to benefit from modern mental health treatment.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope everyone enjoys The Falcon and the Winter Soldier premiere!


End file.
